


Arts & Crafts

by Simara



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Bittersweet, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Therapy, scriddler is implied but not the focus, this is way fluffier then the tags make it sound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 11:56:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12275985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simara/pseuds/Simara
Summary: Edward is stuck in a recreational therapy session and cannot keep his annoyance hidden for long.





	Arts & Crafts

 

**Arts & Crafts**

Edward did not stare at the green crayons and didn’t have the urge to take one of them either. _This is ridiculous_ , he told himself repeatedly, forcing his eyes away from the arts and crafts material. He focused on Jervis instead who was sitting on the other side of the table, gleefully gluing bits and pieces of coloured cardboard to the surprisingly well-constructed paper hat he’d created during the last half an hour. _Ridiculous_ , Edward reminded himself. His fingers where itching. _That’s what good behaviour gets you nowadays: A trip to kindergarten._ A slight smirk formed on Edward’s lips as he appreciated his joke. He would voice his annoyance but they where supposed to ‘let their inner child go free’ and apparently that didn’t involve talking. True, Edward hadn’t been allowed to talk much back when he had actually been a child but that was part of the reason why he considered both the rule and the exercise to be absolute bullsh-

“Edward? You haven’t even started yet. Aren’t you feeling well?” The recreational therapist’s words seemed unusually loud even though she’d lowered her voice. She was standing too close to him; he could feel her breath on his neck. Edward turned his head and gave her the most condescending look he could muster.

“Oh, never mind me. I fortunately have the mental capacity to amuse myself without a colouring book.” By now, everyone was starring, waiting for the inevitable escalation with varying degrees of interest. The therapist smiled and moved her hand. Edward hadn’t expected her to touch his arm which is why he yanked back in surprise when she tried to do just that. He scowled at her. “This isn’t a children’s ward and if you touch me one more time I will report harassment.” It was an empty threat; they would laugh in his face if he did. This therapist wasn’t a regular at Arkham though and she did indeed take a step backwards. She, again, smiled apologetically. “I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. Would you join me at another table?”  She nodded towards the other, unoccupied part of the room, just far enough away to create the illusion of privacy. Her voice was still sickly kind but filled with an authority that seemed almost misplaced. Half-turning towards the rest of the group, she added: “Please do go on, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Edward rolled his eyes, but nodded at her ‘request’. He had no interest in being carried out by the guards or loosing his rec-room privileges after all. There was an almost inaudible sigh on his left when he got out of his chair. His eyes flickered quickly towards the man beside him. Jonathan looked annoyed, whether at Edward’s attitude or the situation at large was hard to say. The paper in front of him was filled with a half finished sketch, but Edward couldn’t quite make out what it was from where he stood. He followed the doctor and sat down with a bitterly polite smile.

“I’m listening”, he said, doubting that there would be anything worth listening to. The therapist looked him straight in the eye. It irritated him almost as much as her attempt at touching him.

“I see that you don’t seem to think me qualified enough to-“, He interrupted her:

“Au contraire. I believe that you are overqualified, which, admittedly, isn’t much of an archival in this so called institution. It is the method I reject, not you.” Edward could tell that she had understood the veiled insult. She didn’t seem to take it personal though.

“What about this could possibly anger you so much?” Her voice was calm and lulling. She was just the kind of psychologist he hated the most, the kind that actually seemed to care.

“It seems to be a horrible waste of time”, he responded with a skilfully constructed air of disinterest. “I’m only here because I’m not allowed to pick and choose which ‘privileges’ I take. To reject this would mean to risk more wholesome entertainment.”

“Creative therapy can provoke very strong emotion. The things we try to hide away, the memories we don’t want to confront… I’ve been doing these kinds of exercises for a long time now, Edward, and do you know what I learned over the years?” He sighted dramatically.

“Pray tell.”

“Those who seem the least interested are usually those who try hardest to repress their emotions.” Edward forced himself to smirk.

“Let’s be plain, Doctor, and skip the nonsense: What do you want me to do? Write a sonnet about my boredom? Pick a colour to symbolize my mood?”

“If that’s what you want to do”, she offered. “I’m not here to order you around. I will have to exclude you from the group if you’re not comfortable enough to participate, though, and I’d rather you’d challenge yourself a little.”

“I don’t think I’d call an empty piece of paper a challenge.” He deadpanned. She smiled.

“Try enjoy yourself, will you? Just take some cardboard or a crayon and try to remember what you would have wanted to do with it twenty years ago. Did you have crayons, as a child?” Edward knew that she was trying to provoke a reaction now and he hated himself for taking the bait.

“You know I didn’t”, he spat, “And I didn’t have much opportunities to miss them either.”

“Neither did Jonathan Crane, yet he doesn’t seems to mind a little drawing.” Edward’s mouth twitched. “Just give it a try. If it’s really as boring as you say you’ll still have time to write that sonnet.” From the far side of the room, one of the guards called out to the therapist, asking if she’d take much longer. She shook her head and ushered Edward back towards the group. There was a triumphant glint in her eyes as Edward sat down and took a green crayon into his hand. Edward didn’t start to draw though; he merely glared at it with distaste. A small part of him wanted to use it, to draw luscious circles and fill them in, to create a colourful palette of shapes. That alone made him despise the paper in front of him even more.

“You’re going to break it”, Jonathan said almost inaudibly. Edward scoffed.  
“What a shame that would be. What are you drawing?” He whispered back. Jonathan moved his hand a little. It was an almost finished, very detailed portrait of a woman. Half of the face was sheer bone and bits of muscle, the other had an uncanny resemblance with- Edward felt the crayon in his hand break as he tightened his grip in surprise. A low chuckle escaped Jonathan’s throat.  Edward let go of the bits and pieces of crumbled crayon and let them fall to the floor. Well, it seemed as though neither of them where likely allowed back into creative therapy.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet has been hiding on my labtop for months now and I finally convinced myself to post it. I have way too many bits and pieces that never turned into "proper" stories lying around... Hope you enjoyed it despite the lack of length!


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